The Blind Sea
by Barbie Shoes
Summary: "The bed dipped, then slowly evened out as she lay down, spreading her weight across it. She stilled, and I held my breath, feeling her eyes as they bore into the back of my head. It was so new, this wanting of her affection, that I dared not allow myself to desire, only to let things happen as they may." — Swan Queen, Regina's POV. Post S2 finale.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Alright, here it is, my Swan Queen on the ship story. Might not be exactly what people had in mind, it took kind of a strange turn (not in plot, just style-wise). _

_I think I put even more work into this one than _Bye Bye, Baby_ — don't go running at the mention of that, I swear this one is not a tragedy! — so if you have the time to leave a little note in the reviews section telling me what you thought, I'll love you forever ;) Guest reviews are enabled._

_This is part 1 of 3. I'm gonna be drunk all day tomorrow, so you might have to wait until Monday for part 2... We shall see._

* * *

Even before she came in, I knew it was her, just by the sound of her footsteps. Not for the absence of a tapping cane that would rule out Gold; not because the heavy clomping of boots was far too masculine to be Snow White; nor on account of the fact that, despite being distinctly unladylike, the footfalls were much too light to be that of David or Hook.

It was the graceless determination with which she approached the cabin, and the way she hesitated once she'd entered. Light flooded the cramped quarters, making me flinch, even as I lay facing the wall. Then, it was gone again as she shut the door, this time from within, leaving only the cracks around the edges to illuminate shadowy shapes in the dark.

I tried to dab away the tears on my cheeks, but I knew she'd already heard me crying by the cautious way she approached, her worried frown just about audible in each uncertain step. She stopped behind me, and I suppose the polite thing would have been to turn towards her, but I didn't have it in me to mind my manners just then. I stayed facing the wall, hoping that maybe she just wouldn't say anything, maybe she would just leave.

I could feel her thinking, though. I could feel that frown, feel her fighting herself over what to say, feel her change her mind more than once before she settled.

"Are you okay?" she whispered, like it wasn't a question at all but a secret, and I wondered if that was her way of saying she wasn't.

"No," I replied shortly, not intending to sound cold, but not really minding if I did either, because it was an honest answer.

She hesitated again, the floorboards creaking when she shifted her weight.

"Do you want to talk?" she asked, so meekly, with a hint of longing that told me she very much hoped I did.

"No." I felt almost guilty this time, though unsure my voice would allow me to say more even if I wanted to.

"Okay," she took one step towards the door, "I'll just leave you alone." Another step.

"No," I said, alarmingly desperate for her not to leave, now that it seemed she truly would. "Stay."

Footsteps came closer again, prefaced by a relieved sigh that I felt certain wasn't meant for my ears, and which I therefore did not acknowledge. She stood there, debating again; I closed my eyes and prayed that she might just understand without me having to say it.

The bed dipped, then slowly evened out as she lay down, spreading her weight across it. She stilled, and I held my breath, feeling her eyes as they bore into the back of my head. It was so new, this wanting of her affection, that I dared not allow myself to desire, only to let things happen as they may.

Her arm wrapped around my chest, body shifting until it was fitted snugly against my own, and the breath I'd trapped came out in one sharp, shuddering burst. I cursed it for doing so, but then she just held on tighter, and I didn't mind my lungs' betrayal quite so much.

We lay quietly in the darkness, embracing in a way that had been previously unimaginable, yet in this moment felt strangely natural. Perhaps it was just because we were two mothers, sharing and grieving in the loss of our son.

Thinking of Henry, I turned in her arms until we were face to face. I still could barely make out her features, but I didn't need to see her to know she had been crying tears of her own.

"We're going to find him, aren't we?" I knew she didn't know the answer, not really, but we both needed to hear it. We needed to believe it.

"We are," she murmured back. "We are going to find him."

I didn't see it coming until her lips had already landed softly on my forehead. It was such an innocent gesture, yet at the same time incredibly jarring. No one had shown me such genuine and simple affection since Daniel.

One moment I was frozen, and in the next her lips were on mine. Or mine were on hers. I wasn't really sure who started it, only that this was one more thing I could not want, and, at the same time, would not stop.

Her lips and her tongue, her hands and her skin all felt so good. Like nothing I'd felt in so long. Even had they not, she still would have felt better than missing my son alone in the dark. That's what I'd say to justify allowing her hands to roam so freely, or her tongue to push past my lips.

I told myself I didn't yearn for her fingers to climb higher when they slipped up beneath my skirt; I simply didn't object when they did. I didn't ache to touch her the same way, either; I just didn't stop my hand from sliding down into her pants.

"Regina..." My name escaped her lips on a breath that was barely even a whisper when we began to move, rocking together like the ship against the sea. I gently shushed her, but pulled her closer at the same time, letting her know I understood how much she needed this. I kissed her again, hard, silently promising that I would give it to her.

Our movements grew from softly rolling waves, to rough stormy waters. Frantic, unpredictable, crashing together again and again.

She came first, wet and clenching around my fingers, gasping wordlessly into my neck. Feeling her release, I couldn't hold back any longer, and my own crashed over me like a tidal wave that shattered me to pieces.

Her sharp, shallow breaths licked my shoulder, tiny aftershocks still coursing through my limbs almost in tandem with her panting. Eventually her breathing slowed, muscles relaxing to instinctually mold her to my body once again.

I felt her nose brush against my throat, followed by her lips, her tongue, trailing up and over my chin until we were kissing again, slowly this time. A hand came to settle gently against my cheek, and then she pulled back.

"Are you okay?" she asked again, as if we were right back where we'd started, though I was well aware her question held an entirely different meaning this time around.

"I'm fine," I assured, offering a small smile out of habit, even though she could not see.

Her thumb brushed over my cheek once, twice. I felt her lips moving towards mine again, but they stopped just short of contact.

"I should go," she whispered instead. "Someone will come looking for me soon."

I grunted something in the affirmative, and at last she peeled her body away, leaving a cold and empty void in her place when she stood.

"We should probably keep this just between us," she said, attempting conviction but sounding unsure. Whether her uncertainty was for the words themselves, or her authority to declare them, I couldn't really say.

"Of course, dear," I affirmed, granting her the certainty she sought. "We were merely–"

"Looking for comfort," she finished my sentence.

I nodded into the dark, then remembered myself.

"Indeed," I replied.

She was not wrong. Comfort was unquestionably what each of us had sought. Yet, for some inexplicable reason, as I watched her silhouette pass through the doorway, I found I felt even more lost than before.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Wow! 100 follows already? That is awesome! Thank you everyone for reading and reviewing and favoriting and following. This chapter is a little short, but the next (and final) chapter is super long, so hopefully that makes up for it :)_

_Reviews are always massively appreciated!_

* * *

I lay in bed again that night, in darkness so opaque it was as if I had been swallowed whole. It was dizzying and disorienting, the swaying of the ship giving me the urge to hold on to something, as though I might float away into the emptiness.

I closed my eyes to the oppressing veil of black, begging for sleep that would not take me. My thoughts began to wander, and I tried not to think about the lips and hands attached to the form in the bunk just above mine. I tried not to think about the way they'd felt against my skin. I tried not to remember, I tried not to imagine.

I would have succeeded, I was most certain, in blocking these thoughts from my mind. I would have, but then there was a rustling over my head, and I knew she was awake. A dull thump near my feet, and I knew she was out of her bunk.

My heart raced — a traitor to my logical mind that begged her to go back to her bed, it instead beckoned her into mine with its wild palpitations. I heard her hands running along the wood of the bunks, feet shuffling across the floor as she slowly felt her way to me, careful not to bump her head or stub her toe.

My breathing hitched, becoming shallow when her palms trailed their way up my body, searching and mapping my position. No sooner had her fingertips found my jaw than her lips found my lips again. Despite my brain's protests, my body indulged in the contact, in the sensation of her weight pressed over me, and her hesitantly seeking tongue.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, a voice was chanting that this was a bad idea — that I shouldn't let her touch me, that I couldn't let myself want her to — but I could hardly hear it over the sound of her gentle, desperate breaths.

That is, until her hand began to descend. In a moment of clarity, I grabbed her wrist, effectively halting her.

"We can't," I said firmly.

"Please," she breathed hotly against my cheek. It was almost enough to make me crack, and the very idea that this woman might break my resolve so easily frightened me.

"Your parents are right in the next bunk," I resisted, my own voice hardly above a quiet hiss.

"They're asleep," she argued, like we were teenagers breaking curfew. She made it seem so tempting, made me want so badly to give into this forbidden tryst. I couldn't, though. If I lost my ability to say 'no' to her, then surely I would be lost completely.

"I'm sorry," I nearly choked on the words. "I just can't."

Without another word, I felt her roll away, and immediately I was colder, lonelier. My hand reached out, wrapping around her wrist again before she disappeared. I didn't want to want her, but maybe I might need her, just a little bit, just for tonight. Something to hold onto in the darkness.

"You don't have to go," I murmured uncertainly.

She paused for a long moment, neither staying nor going. I was certain she was going to leave me, but then my blankets lifted and she slid beneath them. A bare thigh slipped between my own exposed legs as her arm wrapped around my waist, pulling our middles flush together. I should have known. She'd never willingly left me when I needed her before — not when the choice was hers to make.

She kissed me again; deeply, but slowly, so as not to make a sound, and I didn't stop her. I'd said 'no' enough for one night.

Soon, her head settled back on the pillow, though her face remained close and our bodies entwined. I couldn't explain why, but suddenly I felt safe, no longer in danger of disappearing. It wasn't long before I felt myself drifting off to sleep in her arms.

When I woke in the morning, she was already gone.

This was to become our routine. By day, there was nothing to invite anyone's suspicions. There were no lingering glances, no accidental touches or secret smiles. By day, even I myself would sometimes question whether my nights were as sleepless as I believed them to be, wondering if perhaps I'd only dreamed her presence into my bed.

Still, every evening as I lay awake, just when I thought the darkness might consume me, she would be there. She was flesh and blood, real and warm, and holding me like an anchor that tied me to sanity.

She would pull me close and kiss my lips, knowing for certain that I'd allow at least this much. Her hands would start to wander, down my sides and up my shirt, over my backside and under the hem of my panties. Sometimes she'd try to touch; sometimes I let her, very briefly, but in the end I always stopped it.

She'd inhale deeply, as if trying to breathe me in, pressing her body close as her hand relocated to rub soothing circles over my back. I'd whisper I was sorry, and she would shush me, kiss me sweetly and promise it was okay. As she buried her face into the crook of my neck, I would find that I believed her.

I wanted to let it happen. I wanted her; I could admit that now, at least to myself. There were only so many nights I could fall asleep in her arms before my denial wore thin. I wasn't exactly sure, though, what wanting her meant, or how much of it was a need for her protective embrace. I wasn't sure what frightened me more — the dark, or the fact that she alone could keep it at bay.

I could admit that I wanted her, but I tried not to want her too much. That was a road that could only end in heartache. A road I had already traveled to and beyond, with no intentions of ever returning.

I tried not to let it break my heart that I woke up every morning to an empty bed.


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Here is the last part. It's my favorite of the three, so I hope you enjoy it! As usual, I will beg you for reviews, and to those few that actually do leave them, know that it is unimaginably appreciated. :)_

* * *

I reminded myself that today had been good. Henry was found, he was here, and he was safe. I tried to hold on to that light, to let it chase away these shadows that were closing in. I strained to listen, trying to make out his tiny little breaths in the dark. He was right here, I told myself. In the bunk just above his grandparents, right next to his mother.

His family, I thought, trying to feel bitter, but finding it only made me feel alone. He loved me, but he didn't need me anymore. He had them. He had her.

She wouldn't be coming tonight. I'd realized that almost sooner than I cared to admit upon finding our son. Nothing could lessen the joy of cradling him safely in my arms again, though the black spot on my day remained. There was no need for her to seek my embrace, no comfort that I could offer her now. I couldn't escape the way it pained me — she didn't need me anymore, either.

The blackness and solitude began to mingle, rolling together like a snowball that weighed heavier and heavier upon my chest until I couldn't breathe. I was floating in emptiness, fading away. I began to panic, thinking tonight was the night this hollow darkness would finally claim me.

So consumed with this impending doom was I, that I nearly jumped out of my skin when a gentle hand was placed upon my back.

"Shhh," she soothed, lying down beside me, smoothing dampened hair back from my face. "Are you okay?"

The panic dissipated as she grounded me again. I wasn't alone, I wasn't fading. Thanks to her. I carefully considered my answer, kissing her soundly before finally replying, "Yes." As long as she was there, I would be okay.

In that moment, I realized the truth of what was happening, what had been happening for some time. I was falling in love with her.

It had happened so slowly. Blindly, in the dead of night, where I never saw her, only felt. Wasn't that what mattered, though? One would tell the object of their affection that they have feelings for them, not sight. Love at first sight is merely lust in disguise. Real love, true love, comes later. It happens in the dark, in the absence of sight. I was falling in love with an invisible girl, but to me she had never been more beautiful.

She didn't try to fool around, but snuggled down beside me, making herself comfortable, settling in. It was only then that I realized she intended to stay.

"Why are you here?" I asked, because I couldn't just leave it alone.

"It's too lonely up there," she replied. It was a simple answer; though I couldn't help the way it made me smile.

"I know the feeling," I whispered back.

The relief I felt at finding her still in my arms tonight could not be ignored. It made me want to burst into tears, but I certainly couldn't do that. So, instead, I kissed her again; something that had become so familiar to us now, yet for me held no less of a thrill than the first time.

I was in love with the gentle care in her kisses, the tenderness of her touch, the strength of her embrace. I was in love with the way she was always there when I needed her, and the way she saved me, again and again. I was in love with the way that she wanted me, the way she didn't push me, the way she'd stop when I said 'no'. Always offering, never demanding, never taking.

Her hand squeezed the back of my thigh as things escalated, like they always did, and I could sense both her desire and her restraint. There was no reason to fight it anymore; I was already in as deep as it goes. If she wanted me, she could have me. Whether for tonight or forever, I'd give her whatever she wanted.

I grabbed her wrist, much the way I had done to stop her that night, only this time I wasn't pushing her away. Tentatively, nervously, hoping this was indeed what she wanted, I guided her hand between my legs, gently pressing it to me. She gasped.

"Are you sure?" she asked, concerned, but unmistakably hopeful. I nodded against her lips.

"I need you," I whispered, already fingering the edge of her panties in my own silent request.

She obliged enthusiastically, her kisses now aimed to devour. I pushed her shirt up over her chest, knowing it was too risky to remove it completely, but wanting to feel as much of her skin against my own as I possibly could. She kneaded me gently over the thin material of my undergarments, hand quickly sneaking below the waistband, as if she couldn't possibly wait another moment to do so. Equally eager, I immediately followed suit.

We made love slowly, as quietly as we could, turning our heads to whimper into the pillow when it simply couldn't be swallowed down. Her fingers drove into me, stroked me, caressed me. Her lips toyed with my lips, she licked my neck, even nipped my shoulder in a way that I was sure would leave the first lasting evidence of these nightly meetings.

I worked my fingers harder, wanting to feel her release again before being consumed by my own. She seemed to have the same idea — it would always have to be a bit of a competition between us. She won, in the end. It just felt too good. She didn't win by much, though.

We lay panting in the dark, until again she sighed her contentment and relaxed against me. I wished that for once I could look into her eyes, if only so she could see the way I felt about her shining back through my own. I was madly in love with her, and I thought maybe, just maybe, one day I might even tell her.

Little did I know in that moment what the next day would bring.

It was the reason I should have listened to myself in the first place. The reason I never should have let her touch me. The reason I should have just let the darkness eat me alive instead of trying to hang on for so long.

The reason she was never mine.

Oh, they were so happy to have him back. Neal, Baelfire, whatever you wanted to call him. They had everything they needed now, like a holy little trinity. Mother, father, and son. Where did a woman who raised the child in their absence fit into that equation? A woman who loved the mother secretly in the dark? It was the final nail in my coffin, of that I was sure.

I once again found myself alone in the pitch-black night, contemplating my lonely fate. In another life, I would have ripped his heart out for taking them from me. I would have crushed it to dust, watched the last breath drain out of him. In this life, though, I would suffer silently for their happiness. Hot tears streamed down my cheeks. Tonight, when the darkness came for me, I told myself would not fight it.

The mattress dipped, as it had countless times before, and I could only assume she was here to say goodbye. Or perhaps something even less poetic still — to tell me it never happened, never to speak of it again. Her hand reached out to cup my jaw, as it always did, only this time to be met by salty wetness.

"Why are you crying?" she asked, trying to wipe the moisture away. I jerked my head out of her reach.

"It is no concern of yours," I hissed coldly, hoping my voice didn't tremble too much. "Just go. Go to your love, and leave me alone."

She paused for a beat; I guess I'd surprised her. Then her hand was back on my cheek, pulling me to her, and in an instant she was kissing me, hard and thoroughly. I was angry and hurt and right now I hated her, but I loved her too much to stop it. I was powerless, I was weak with love.

She pulled back, but still she held my face in her hands, much in the same way that she held my heart. Her thumb stroked my cheek, and I wrapped my fingers around her wrist, uncertain if I wanted to push her away or pull her closer.

"What do you want from me?" I beseeched her, to put me out of my misery.

"I wasn't sure what I was feeling until I saw him again," she explained, and I was sure her next words would cause my heart to shatter, "I thought that he was what I wanted, but when he hugged me? All I could think about was falling asleep in your arms. That's what I want, Regina."

Butterflies exploded in my gut, but I hardly dared to believe what I'd just heard.

"You're choosing me?" I asked, in the smallest voice I'd ever heard coming from my throat. I felt her lean in close again, a halted breath hitting my lips, and it was only then that I noticed she was shaking.

"I'm in love with you," she sighed, and it was both a confession and a plea. My heart leapt into my throat, and I swallowed hard so it wouldn't escape. I thought it couldn't possibly be true, but then I remembered, once again, that she never did leave me when she had the choice. I loved her, and she loved me. I would have to learn to trust in that.

"I love you, too," I replied, grinning secretly at her trembling sigh of relief.

We kissed, and cried, and laughed quietly at ourselves for crying. Eventually we fell asleep, just as we'd always done, tangled together like old trees.

When I woke the next day, I knew everything was different now. Soon, someone else would wake, they would see, and they would know. I wasn't sure what would happen next, but I decided it didn't really matter — because that morning, for the first time, Emma Swan was still in my arms.


End file.
